


Feminist Theories

by starrdust411



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, F/M, Fanboy Phil Coulson, Female Steve Rogers, Het, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-26
Updated: 2014-06-26
Packaged: 2018-02-06 07:02:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1848832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starrdust411/pseuds/starrdust411
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Captain America that comes out of the ice isn't what Phil Coulson had expected. It takes some time to adjust his views and process his feelings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Feminist Theories

Phil had heard the theories in his time. Most people had at least once, but no one ever really gave much thought to the notion. It was all dismissed as nothing more than the words of angry bra burning feminist and conspiracy theory nut cases. It was fun to distrust the government and make up stories about just how far the secrets went, but who could possibly wrap their heads around this sort of thing?

"There's newsreel footage," he had argued back in his younger, angrier teenage years when being a Captain America fan wasn't simply part of his identity, but his entire life. "Tons of it, _hours_ worth! How can you deny that?"

"Yeah and most of it is shot from a distance and from behind," Suzy Liebowitz, the only other person he'd ever met who had been more enamored with Captain America than Phil himself. Although her contribution to the weekly fan gathers would cause a great deal more tired groans and eye rolls than Phil could ever achieve. "Think about it: have you ever seen a close up shot of Cap's face?"

"Yes. Yes I have! We all have! In the USO posters-"

"Most of the originals were burned beyond recognition," she countered. "The ones you find most often are reprints."

"... In the comic books..."

"Artistic license."

"In the _trading cards_!" He pulled out the deck from his jacket pocket, spreading them out across the ping pong table in the campus wreck room. The other club members all gathered around, staring in awe at the sight of Phil's legendary near mint condition original issue trading cards. Each one featured a picture of a tall, handsome man with a square chin and sharp features staring heroically into the camera. Surely no one could argue with such solid evidence.

No one, except Suzy Liebowitz. She took one look at the deck and gave Phil a small pitying smile, before pushing them back in his direction. "It's a stand in," she said with a shake of her head, her long oily hair dangling before the thick frames of her glasses. "These cards were issued in 1944 a year _after_ Cap's plane disappeared into the arctic. How could they have him pose for these if he was still MIA? Simple: _she_ didn't!"

Phil still remembered quite clearly the smug smile that Suzy had worn the rest of the night as he was left speechless by her argument. He had stood his ground, saying that he was merely too frustrated by her overwhelming hold on her own delusions to form a proper rebuttal, but the rest of the club, especially Suzy, didn't believe him. Eventually Phil pushed it all aside, basking in the reassuring comfort that ultimately he was right, because there was no way on earth that Captain America was actually a woman. 

\---

Twenty seven years later, after Suzy Liebowitz, after college, after club meetings in dormitory basements Phil had suited up and joined in with the big evil government that had given him the privilege of finding out the truth to all the dirty little secrets so many of his old school friends would have given their left ears for. None of those bits of information meant much in comparison to the day that the crashed Hydra warship was found in the melting ice of the Arctic Circle. 

He hadn't been there personally when the plane was found -- busy chasing spacemen in the desert -- but he had read the reports and debriefed the agents upon their return. Yet there was no star spangled man on board the giant Hydra war bird, just a shield eerily similar to his own clutched in the hands of a blue suited woman who documents would later reveal to be a girl from Brooklyn named Stephanie Rogers.

" _She's_ Captain America? Her? Really? _Her_." 

Coulson hadn't been the one to say it and for that he was grateful, because the looks that Hill and Fury pinned the dumbfounded Agent Sitwell with would likely have thawed Rogers out of her ice encrusted prison faster than any machine ever built. "It was the 1940s Agent," Fury reminded him tersely. "Do you really believe that this country would have rallied its support behind a _woman_ as their only hope to defeat the Germans?"

Sitwell said nothing to that, likely too embarrassed to make a counter argument in front of Hill, but Coulson had been preparing for this debate most of his life and had far too many questions circling his brain to hold back now. "But didn't she go on the road?" he put in. "The USO shows, the cross country tours."

"The government didn't begin spreading the rumors about Captain Rogers being a man until _after_ she began active duty," Hill told him. She had never been a believer in the secret gender identity theories, at least never had admitted to it when it was brought up in casual conversation, but Coulson could now see a triumphant glint in her eyes as she aired out the information she had probably been sitting on for years. "The American people were quite trusting during that time and John Q Public didn't have any trouble accepting the idea that the Captain America who had danced on stage for them was completely separate for the Captain America that was currently kicking Nazi tail across Germany.

"By the early fifties, evidence of the USO tours were conveniently destroyed and the public at large was continually fed the idea that there was only _one_ Captain America for so long that even those around to say otherwise were silenced."

"What about the people she served with?" Coulson went on. If it weren't for his years of loyal service, Fury likely would have shut him down then and there, but he was a valued asset to SHIELD and his superiors were willing to humor him. "There were dozens of men who had _seen_ her with their own eyes: The Howling Commandos, Agent Carter, _Howard Stark_."

"The forties really were a much simpler time, Agent," Fury shrugged. "And not every soldier was the sharpest knife in the drawer. People see a six foot two figure in uniform commanding troops and automatically assume they're looking at a man."

"That girl?" Sitwell gapped. "People thought _that girl_ was a man?"

Fury's face maintained its usual grimace as Hill's eyes narrowed and Coulson fought off the urge to blush. Even encased in ice and frozen till her skin was a watery blue it was hard to argue against the notion that Rogers was nothing short of beautiful. True she was unusually large and muscular, but even in a padded suit with her hair pulled tightly out of her face she gave off a feminine energy that was impossible to deny.

"As far as those close to Rogers were concerned," Hill went on, pointedly ignoring Sitwell's outburst, "well, let's just say that Uncle Sam has ways to keep people quiet. All of them were either financially compensated for their disclosure or blackmailed into silence. Agent Carter put up quite the fuss when she went from being a close friend and ally to the other half of a star-crossed love story, but ultimately remained a professional and played along."

In that moment Coulson was tempted to look Suzy Liebowitz up, write her a long letter with a very thorough apology before letting her know that all her theories weren't so farfetched and hair brained as he had once believed. Looking back, it all really did make sense. How could there be no actual footage or clear pictures from the stage shows? Why were there no interviews or voice recordings of America's greatest hero? Why would all of the photographed memorabilia only date back to the year of Captain America's disappearance?

"What about Captain Rogers?" Sitwell asked. "Did she ever know about any of this?"

Fury shook his head. "Blissfully unaware," he said before turning his good eye in Coulson's direction. "So don't go bringing those trading cards around."

A sense of shame suddenly hit Coulson like a punch to the gut and it had nothing to do with the mention of his treasured collection. He was ashamed that he had never considered Captain Rogers's side of things. The woman had risked her life for her country, spent years rescuing troops and hunting down Hydra agents, had even watched her best friend die, and for what? To be treated like a dirty little secret instead of the heroine that she was.

"She'll have to learn the truth eventually," he pointed out.

"Eventually, but not right now," Hill countered sternly. "Right now, Rogers is alive, but unconscious. We don't know when she'll wake up or how much damage there could be. Her body may have been well preserved, but that says nothing of her brain tissue. For now the truth will have to wait. There's work to do first."

\---

It was two weeks after Rogers had been pulled from the ice and she had yet to wake up. Her vitals were looking good and the doctors had removed the life support systems with no issue, yet Rogers continued to sleep. They moved her from the medical facility into a replication of a forties hospital room that was so laughably fake that Coulson was always tempted to push down the walls whenever he walked into the stage room.

He was given a slot in the rotation -- was put on "babysitting duty" as the other agents called it -- and came in everyday from three to eight in order to watch Rogers sleep. It was a tedious assignment, a joke that the other agents groaned about, but Coulson actually found it quite soothing. It gave him ample time to reflect and come to terms with the truth. 

The first day of his shift he had brought in a small photocopy of one of his cards (because he had only promised Fury not to bring the real thing) and held it up against the authentic Captain America in order to compare. There certainly was a similarity between the real Captain Rogers and her double -- so much so that Coulson would have thought they were family if he didn't already know that Rogers had no living relatives at the time -- and Coulson had to marvel at just how much effort had gone into preserving the charade.

Coulson also did a bit more digging in his spare time in order to gather more details about the true Captain America's history. She never wore a skirt into combat as Liebowitz had frequently argued and there were no recorded details as to the nature of her relationship with Sergeant James Barnes. Rogers, however, had been hand chosen for Project Rebirth by Dr. Erskine himself after he had began to theorize that the reason for the formula's failure was likely due to a problem adapting to the male gene. Erskine had felt that Johann Schmidt's disfigurement had probably been a side effect of the abundance of testosterone in his system and decided that a female body should be used as a control in order to test out his theory. Clearly Erskine had been correct in his assessment as the treatment had worked and Rogers's body didn't have a single flaw or deformity to be found.

In the light of the artificial sun the woman looked so much like a real life Sleeping Beauty that Coulson half expected a little blue bird to fly in and land on her shoulder. Her jaw was square and her features sharp, just as her double's had been, but her lips were also remarkably pink and full and when the color returned to her features it had caused her cheeks to have a rosy glow. Her golden hair went down to her shoulders and sat in loose waves against the pillow. The medical team had changed her out of the damaged costume and into SHIELD issued sweatpants and a t-shirt and Coulson could see that while her upper body was indeed muscular and wide, her waist was also impossibly narrow and her bosom...

He stopped that train of thought in its tracks, because it was wrong to be so attracted to Captain America. She was a girl, a young beautiful girl, but she was also the same Captain America that he had looked up to and admired and modeled most of his life after. He couldn't sit there and fantasize about her perky breast or long toned legs or her perfectly round ass. 

Distantly, he wondered what she sounded like. Was her voice a husky purr or a girlish titter? Were her eyes really a bright blue or a rich brown or elegant green? Did she have a good sense of humor and a quick wit? Was she thoughtful? Was she sweet? Was she as kind and heroic as her male counterpart had always seemed?

His hand reached out to touch hers, his fingers gliding against the back of a hand that had held a gun and thrown a shield, but still looked so delicate and gentle. The skin of her fingers was rough and calloused, practically scraping against his flesh, but there was warmth still that made him flush. Suddenly Coulson wished that the radio in the corner was playing music instead of the looped recording of the old ball game, because Rogers was a woman that would inspire a dozen love songs.

The thought of bending forward to kiss those full lips entered his mind, but Coulson wrestled them to the ground before his body could even begin to act on the desires. Rogers was in for a great deal of surprises when she woke up and the last thing she needed was "kissed by a strange man in your sleep" to be one of them.

Coulson sat back in the plastic chair at the opposite end of the room and finished out the rest of his uneventful shift.

\---

It was another two days before Rogers finally woke up and the whole affair was a spectacular failure. Rogers had actually managed to escape the facility and run out into the middle of Time Square. She had been recovered quickly, but Fury's idea of easing her into the future gradually had been thrown thoroughly out the window the moment she went crashing through plywood walls.

The whole situation had transpired an hour before Coulson's shift was set to begin and he had to laugh at his own poor luck. What's more, his chance to learn firsthand details about the real life Captain America were stripped away the moment Fury informed him that Rogers had already been assigned a handler, and it most certainly wouldn't be Phil Coulson.

"May I ask why, sir?" Coulson had venture in spite of himself. He had been pushing his luck quite a bit lately and figured it wouldn't hurt to nudge things just a bit more. "If you're worried about my hobbies interfering at all..."

"Captain Rogers may have come face to face with the fact that she's just jumped seventy years into the future earlier than expected, but the situation is still _delicate_ , Agent," Fury said speaking in his usual quick and dry manner. "There's a lot of changes ahead for her and, for the time being, we've decided to restrict access to Rogers to be a job exclusively for only female agents."

At first Coulson could only look at Fury with open disbelief, but the logic behind the decision slowly dawned on him and Coulson instantly felt foolish. For all intense and purposes, Rogers's original handler had been Agent Carter, which meant that she was used to having another woman close by. What's more, while hearing about all the changes to the world during her absence would be shocking enough coming from anyone, there would be a number of personal issues for Rogers that only another woman would be capable of answering.

Once again Coulson found himself inches away from the truth, but farther from it than he could bare.

\---

He wasn't able to see Rogers again until the Tesseract flared to life and Loki invaded their world. Fury had taken it upon himself to actually recruit her, but Coulson was given the job of escorting Captain Rogers to the carrier and he had to wonder if that was the Director's way of finally throwing Phil a bone after making him wait so long for this moment. 

They met at a small airport in the city, the Quinjet prepped and ready for takeoff as Fury's car pulled up with Rogers still inside. It was foolish, but Coulson actually found himself standing straighter and fixing his tie as Fury parked, stepped out the car, and actually walked around to the passenger side in order to hold the door for Rogers. Coulson reasoned that Rogers needed that extra level of politeness; the shift in gender dynamics would likely take a great deal of getting used to for a woman who had missed a great number of steps in the women's rights movement. Yet that didn't prepare Coulson for the sight of Rogers, alive and awake and walking towards him.

Rogers was even more lovely awake than she had been asleep, with her wide vibrant blue eyes sweeping her surroundings with a level of uncertainty while her red painted lips stayed pressed firmly into a thin line. Her blonde hair was curled and pinned behind her ears and her large hands were actually encased in _gloves_ as she gripped her little clutch firmly in her hands. It struck Coulson that whoever had dressed the Captain had put her in an outfit that looked almost identical to Ingrid Berman in _Casablanca_ and he wondered if she could grasp the irony.

Fury motioned towards the jet and Coulson half expected Rogers to loop her arm around his as Fury continued to play the role of escort. The Director himself was a particularly tall man, but Captain Rogers's own impressive height coupled with the heels of her t-strapped leather shoes made her almost tower over the man as they walked side by side towards the Quinjet. Anyone looking at Rogers would assume that she was just an ordinary woman with a peculiar fashion sense, but Coulson noticed that she didn't walk like a delicate lady, but with the purposeful stride of a trained soldier.

"Captain Rogers, I'd like to introduce you to Special Agent Phil Coulson." Fury's voice was firm and clear as he waved a hand in Coulson's direction and Coulson actually found himself arching his back that much more as Rogers stared down at him, a polite smile already spreading across her full lips. She was so beautiful, painfully beautiful. "Coulson is one of our top agents. He'll take you the rest of the way."

"It's a pleasure to meet you Agent Coulson," Rogers said as she tucked her clutch under one arm and used her other to extend a friendly hand in greeting.

The sound of her voice struck him. It was neither husky nor girlish, but a breathy tone caught somewhere in between the two. Distantly, Phil found his mind shifting as he pushed aside the deep male timber that he had always associated with Captain America's speaking voice in order to mark this as her true vocal tone. He smiled, perhaps a bit too wide and too warm, before accepting the offered hand, not the least bit surprised by the strength of her grip. "Captain Rogers. It's an honor."

She smiled, pleased, but there was also a hint of confusion in her gaze that Phil made a note of for later. 

Fury watched the two board the jet, his stern gaze trained on Coulson in a silent warning for him not to scare the Captain off, and Coulson had to reshuffle his files a few times in order to allow himself a moment to gather his senses. When they finally entered the cabin, he was suddenly struck by the scent of Rogers's perfume, a spicy aroma that stuck in his nose and made his knees a bit weak and Coulson eagerly found himself a seat and strapped in.

He watched as one of the female pilots instructed Rogers on securing her straps, before stepping back towards the cockpit. Clearly, for the time being, Fury and Coulson were still the only two men being allowed the privilege of Rogers's company. He would have to thank him for that later.

Rogers paled visibly as the engines roared to life and Coulson actually saw her jaw set and her hands clasped at the seat when the cabin began to rock. "Anything the matter, Captain Rogers?"

She chuckled softly, her blue eyes focused on the ground and nothing else. "Last time I was in the air... it didn't end well," she confessed and Phil felt like smacking himself for even asking.

"It'll be a short ride," he promised before the two fell into a tense silence.

His words were little comfort for Rogers as she continued to sit stiff and pale as the jet made its gradual rise into the sky. Coulson could see the sweat beading against her brow and distantly thought that he could hear the arms of the seat cracking against her vise like grip. He was tempted to offer her some form of assistance or even a word of comfort, but Coulson was certain there was nothing he could say or do that would put Captain Rogers at ease. It was a relief to all onboard when the plane finally leveled out and Coulson knew that it would only be a matter of minutes before they landed on the carrier. Surely Rogers could hold out until then.

The color gradually returned to her features and when the pilot informed them that it would be safe to move around the cabin, Coulson was actually surprised when Rogers took advantage by unbuckling her restraints. He watched as she proceeded to peel off her excess layers, tugging off her gloves one finger at a time, unpinning her hat (she actually wore a _hat pin_!) and putting it aside, before carefully shrugging out of her coat. At first Coulson assumed that all the excessive movements were just a distraction, something to keep her mind off of the fact that they were several hundred feet in the air, but when she began to roll the sleeves of her linen blouse up to her elbows Coulson realized that Rogers was actually making the switch from civilian lady to Captain America. (Or rather, she'd gone from Ilsa Lund to Rosie the Riveter.)

"Fury said you'd be the one to brief me on my assignment," she said in a voice so authoritative it actually made Coulson flinch. Everything about Rogers had shifted in that moment. She no longer sat up straight and demure with her legs crossed at her ankles, but hunched over with her feet planted firmly apart as she gazed up at him with blue eyes that had gone from gentle to hardened in an instant. "What exactly is it that you boys want me to do?"

Coulson cleared his throat as he shoved aside the thoughts swirling in his head. It was so tempting to match this version of Rogers up against the fabrications he had spent most of his life idolizing, but there was no time for that now. Instead he straightened his tie and handed her a file, giving her a brief overview of the situation with Loki and the Tesseract. She took it all in thoughtfully, her jaw set and lips pressed grimly together in a manner that had likely been adept over dozens of other briefings. Her eyes, however, visibly widened in a mixture of shock, horror, and awe when Coulson used the projection screens in order to provide her with some visual aid.

"You'll be working as part of a team," Coulson went on as the images shifted, displaying footage collected of one of the Hulk's less violent episodes out in the desert. "Dr. Bruce Banner, an expert in the field of nuclear physics, has been brought in to help us locate the Tesseract."

Rogers looked up at him then, her poker face slipping as an openly dubious expression settled on her sharp features. "This guy is a doctor?" she asked skeptically as she pointed towards the rampaging giant on the screen. "Is he always so... green?"

Coulson chuckled. "Dr. Banner met with an unfortunate accident a few years ago while trying to replica the Dr. Erskine's super soldier formula. The flawed formula, combined with a hefty dose of gamma radiation, turned Banner into the creature known as the Hulk. Fortunately he seems to have learned to control his condition well enough."

Rogers hummed thoughtfully as she leaned back against her seat. "Male test subjects," she mused sagely. "Erskine was right when he said that only women could handle his formula. I'm surprised you boys hadn't figured that out yet." Her expression shifted then as her gaze lifted towards Coulson. It was the first time she had looked at him, truly looked at him, and he suddenly felt a powerful warmth from head to toe. "People knew that, right?"

He could see the path Rogers was heading down and Coulson instantly felt a small part of himself panic. He doubted that Fury had let Rogers in on the cover up yet and he doubted that now would be the best time to bring it to light. Fortunately Coulson was trained to think on his feet. "Well, Erskine likely didn't have time to make note of it, given the abrupt nature of his demise."

Coulson watched as her features suddenly grew solemn, likely with a mixture of guilt and regret, and he instantly felt horrible for bringing it up. "You know, Captain Rogers," Coulson found himself blurting out, "I wanted to say that it truly is an honor to be working with you. I was quite a fan growing up."

Her face instantly brightened at that and Coulson was pleased to see a genuine smile lighting her face. "Were you? That's nice. They printed comic books about me, but I didn't think anyone'd be interested. They said boys wouldn't want to read my books. Did they sell well with the fellas?"

He quietly considered this for a moment, wondering briefly if any original Captain America comics had survived and what sort of adventures would the female Captain Rogers have gotten into. "Plenty of fans," he said after a while. 

"What about girls?" she asked, child like glee radiating off her in such a way that Coulson was suddenly reminded of her physical age. "Did girls like the books? I always hoped I'd inspire some little ladies, too."

Coulson thought about Suzy Liebowitz and the handful of other feminist he had met in his college days. They had all been admirers and had painted their own pictures of what the female Cap would have looked like before going off to rallies and burning their bras. Looking back, none of those pictures had captured the real essence of Stephanie Rogers, although Coulson had a strong feeling that she would have approved of those girls standing side by side against an invisible, yet all too real foe and demanding their fair share.

"Well," Coulson began thoughtfully, but was quickly cut off by the women in the cockpit.

"I was a fan of yours, Cap," the co-pilot called out, turning her head in order to pin Captain Rogers with a toothy grin. "Had a few posters of you on my wall."

"Yeah, you were a real inspiration," the pilot agreed, seeming to sit a bit straighter in her seat as she spoke. "I doubt I'd be where I am today if it wasn't for you."

Captain Rogers was positively glowing as she all but absorbed the praise and Coulson began to wonder if he had been the only one to have escaped the truth.

\---

All secrets came out in the end, even seventy year old ones, and Coulson knew from the moment they had set foot onboard the helicarrier that it was only a matter of time before Rogers discovered the truth. A part of him was surprised she hadn't figured it out right away given how everyone who was introduced to her had a tendency to gape and stare for a good minute before recovering themselves enough to move on. Even Romanov did something of a double take upon first encountering Rogers, although Coulson assumed it had more to do with just how tall she was and not Natasha's ability to keep a secret.

To no one's great surprise it was ultimately Stark who had let the cat out of the bag and Coulson wished again and again that he could have been the one to deliver the news.

According to Natasha the scene had been brief, but brutal. Stark had spent a good five minutes on the flight back from Berlin looking Rogers over, studying her with such intensity that he could have peeled the color from the fabric of her uniform. It was only when she had pulled the cowl off of her head that Stark blurted out a startled "Oh my God! I thought you were a _man_."

Naturally, Rogers hadn't taken that well. She'd barked out an indignant " _What_?" before recoiling in a way that clearly suggested she would have lunged at Stark had Thor not chosen that exact moment to arrive, effectively forcing the explosive scene onto the back burner.

Coulson didn't know what to make of his luck when he found himself to be the first one to run into Rogers after the team had returned to the carrier, but he supposed that he was leaning more towards the unfortunate end of the stick as the captain looked ready to unload and had her eyes trained on him. Dressed in the red, white, and blue suit that he had helped to design, she was positively radiating her contempt as she stalked over to him, fist clenched and jaws set. Even with her rage directed towards him, Coulson couldn't help but admire what an imposing figure she created and wondered briefly if she had the same intensity on the battle field.

"You _knew_ , didn't you?" Rogers all but seethed and of course Coulson did know exactly what she was referring to.

"I was under orders from Director Fury," Coulson said instantly. He remembered the cards that Fury had specifically told him not to bring. He still brought them around every now and again in order to compare the two captains and if Rogers were to walk into his office at that moment, she'd find them stacked carefully on his desk beneath a protective case. "No one was permitted to tell you."

"I don't care about Fury's orders!" Rogers countered as she jabbed a gloved finger in his direction. " _You_ didn't tell. You gave me that speech about being a fan, but that didn't stop you from sitting back and letting me walk around here like a damn fool! I thought you were _decent_. I thought you'd watch my back, but you were just snickering along with the rest of them."

"It's not like that Captain, I swear."

"Then tell me what's it like?" she snapped. She was shaking and red and there were tears brimming in her eyes and it was wrong. Captain America wasn't supposed to cry. That was just wrong. "Because to me, it sounds like just another example of how I'm not good enough. I was never good enough for anyone. I wasn't good enough in my old body, wasn't good enough to save my mother, wasn't good enough to serve my country. Then I gave my body to science, to my country, handed myself over to men who didn't even want _me_. They wanted a superman, but they got an Amazon. 

"They put me in a skirt and heels and they laughed. Put me in pants and handed me a gun and they laughed some more! I still wasn't good enough, wasn't good enough to save Bucky, wasn't good enough to end the war, not truly. I bet they were glad when I died. Probably couldn't wait to find some pretty boy to stuff into my suit and make every one forget that I ever existed."

"It isn't like that," Coulson said again. It was a struggle to speak because his throat had grown tighter, but if he stopped to clear it he would lose the Rogers's attention. "They may have tried to bury the truth, but they couldn't. People still knew. So many women knew the truth and it made them stronger, _you_ made them stronger. Do you know how many girls I've met in my life that were inspired by _you_ , the real _you_? Ask any of the women on board this ship and I guarantee most will say you're the whole reason why they're here today. You matter. You've always mattered."

Rogers wasn't crying, which pleased Coulson, but she didn't seem to be comforted by his words either. From the stormy look clouding her eyes, Coulson had a strong feeling that she likely hadn't heard a word he had said. "I'm tired of war games," she muttered to herself, almost as if she had forgotten that Coulson was even there. "I'm tired of fighting for people who don't respect me. I'm… I'm tired."

For a moment, Coulson thought that Rogers was going to rip her costume off right then and there and the idea of that was enough to jab at his heart. Rogers didn't tear off her uniform. She only frowned darkly at the ground, before slowly turning and stalking away.

\---

It was funny how death, even a near death, had a way of shuffling things around. After Loki had stabbed him through the heart, the Avengers had finally managed to put their issues aside and actually made a full on strike. Not that Coulson remembered or knew about any of this. He was too busy laying in a hospital bed thirty thousand feet in the air, clinging feebly to life with the aid of top of the line medical equipment.

Coulson spent most of his days post surgery drifting in and out of consciousness, dreaming mundane little dreams that he happily believed were real. He dreamed of Captain Rogers waiting at his bedside, watching over him the way he had watched over her. He dreamed of her sitting straight in tall in the chair by the door, sometimes wearing her uniform, sometimes in SHIELD issued sweats, and a few times in vintage civies. In those dreams she'd always be either reading -- a book or a magazine, it's hard to tell -- or sketching thoughtfully as music drifted through the air. 

He dreamed the dream so many times that eventually it became real; he knew this because the warmth and weight of Rogers's fingers against his hand was just too solid to have been imagined. His eyes were still wrapped in a heavy fog as he lolled his head sluggishly to the side and spotted the pleasant blur that resembled Captain Rogers.

"Stephanie," he rasped still too dazed to remember to be formal. He recovered remarkably quickly given the circumstances and cleared his throat before trying again. "Captain Rogers."

The hand on top of his tightened carefully as a soft chuckle cut through the sound of droning hospital equipment. The soft outline of her body slowly began to sharpen the longer Coulson stared and soon he was able to see that Rogers was smiling down at him. "I like Stephanie better," she whispered almost secretively to him and suddenly Coulson questioned whether or not this was just another dream. 

He could see now that she wasn't in her suit, but instead a pair of slacks and another blouse that was rolled up to her elbows. Her blonde hair hung loose around her shoulders and Coulson could have sworn that he was able to smell it over the strong stench of antiseptic. "I shouldn't be here," she went on softly. "Visiting hours ended a while ago, but I wanted to see you. I had a feeling you'd wake up today and I didn't want... I wanted to get a chance to apologize."

If his face didn't feel so numb, Coulson probably would have frowned at her words, but at the moment he only had the strength to stare blankly up at her. "Apologize?" he barely managed to choke out. The mere act of staying awake and focused was starting to drain him.

"I was a bit hard on you, wasn't I?" she explained sheepishly. "Saying all those things to you... it wasn't your fault. I was upset and you were someone to lash out at. It wasn't fair to you."

"No." Coulson groaned as he attempted to sit up, but there was a strange mixture of pain and numbness that lead to him struggling briefly before giving up as Rogers... Stephanie gently pressed him back against the stiff hospital bed. "No, I deserved it." He blinked several times as he fought against the fog that was beginning to settle on him again. "I was one of those jerks. My whole life... I thought you were a man. Used to get so angry when anyone said different... it scared me. I dunno... I guess I just felt... robbed... cheated out of something that wasn't even mine." He glanced down at their hands, still joined together in a cautious touch. He shifted his hand until it was facing up so that he could lace his own fingers around Stephanie's warm palm. It wasn't as strong of a grip as he would have liked, but Coulson thought it got the point across. "You're you. You have your life back now. Do what you want with it."

Stephanie's smile seemed to widen as her free hand moved to cup Coulson's cheek and he felt warmed all over. "I was right about you from the start," she told him. "You are decent."

He did his best to smile, but Coulson wasn't certain how well it came out. "That means a lot, coming from you."

Stephanie's form faded away before his eyes as the hospital room gradually fell into darkness. He slipped back into the fog of sleep, content to know that Captain America would watch over him.


End file.
